Change (Sequel to All I Want)
by Atheniandream
Summary: UPDATE: Beta'd 28.7.14 - Sequel and Add-on to Episode 4.05. Summary: He's definitely growing up, he thinks.


_UPDATE: BETA'D 28.07.14 (There was some hot-mess Grammar in this one)_

* * *

_Notes: This is a Sequel to '**All I Want**' and a continuation of the Episode Add-on for **4.05.**_

* * *

_'**Change**' By Atheniandream_

* * *

_But we were younger then_

_And now we're not_

_And if there was a plan made_

_Then we forgot about it_

_And if there was time_

_Well I could figure it out now_

_But life is short_

_And I don't care for most of it, _

_Nah I don't care for most of it_

_Because you're all that I, _

_All that I want._

* * *

He detests Shakespeare. The only way it seems to creep into his vocabulary is through the medium of sarcasm; and that usually stems from the woman who, right now, is parading about the stage in front of him, rippling red hair down her back and head to toe in velvet, commanding herself like she's been effortlessly doing this for a decade.

_Which he suspects, she probably has...__in some ways at least._

Replace the stage for side walk and a desk. Replace the velvet for silk and stilettos.

_She has the audience in her hands and the confidence to boot. _

And he is _**completely**_ taken with her.

Difference is..._he_ has to get in line. The entire room is under whatever spell she has cast, whatever true talents she's clearly been hiding from him for the past ten years. Secretarial Talent Shows aside.

_**She was born to do this**_, he realises.

And yet here she is….fitting it around _his own life_.

He never expected to be humbled whilst sitting in a theatre, listening to a plot he's only half catching.

_He's growing up. _Oddly out of step, for a forty something man. But he feels it in spades.

The need for change.

Rushing all around him and pointing unceremoniously in her direction.

And suddenly, the overwhelming need for her is trumped...but the overwhelming need for her to finally be herself. To do what she was always meant to. And he knows for a fact it has nothing to do with either him OR a desk.

_He never had that chance._

But he made it into what he wanted and he loves his life, truly. Loves his job.

Maybe she does too... The difference is, he reasons,

_**She has a chance to have what she wanted all along. **_

When the curtain call arrives, her eyes flick to his briefly, quickly. He manages to wink at her just long enough to see the slight twitch of a secret smile just for him.

It warms him from the tips of his cheeks all the way to his toes…

* * *

He's getting agitated. _Waiting_. People busy milling about him as they gather their own blessed people from the stage.

He wonders idly...how different they'd have been if he'd met her doing what she loved instead of pandering to him.

_Wonders if he'd have fallen for her just as hard __**or worse**__…_

He finally spies red, alienly curly hair above the crowd. Her eyes lock with his, an admonishing look on her face, no doubt for his still lingering presence. She pauses when several people congratulate her. She is gracious and effervescent, and he loves watching it, watching her. Loves taking that back seat in her world where she is so revered.

_He's definitely growing up…_

When she finally reaches him, now dressed in that blue number from earlier, sporting that cleavage that's pretty sure is overkill for work and yet already been entertaining him all day, he watches her tilt her head, a restrained smile in favour of what he expects is going to be closer to a telling off. He readies himself with a similar look on his own face.

"What are you still doing here?" She asks, a slight disappointment in her words.

"I told you. _Afterparty or Dinner after_. Your call." He shrugs, readjusting his footing. She makes him feel like he's overstayed his welcome. But he's grown past the need to feel offended by it in favour of the fact that _**he knows**_ she's only pushing him away because she thinks she has to.

_**And he doesn't appear to care about that anymore either.**_

"Harvey. You have a work in the morning." She says, shaking her hair a little.

"So do you? What you think just cuz you stormed the theatre tonight I'm gonna give you the morning off?" He jokes.

_**They both know he would...**_

"So you enjoyed it? You _liked _Shakespeare?" She confirms, a little poignancy of humour in her asking.

"_I enjoyed watching you nail it_," He replies effortlessly, cockily. "So. What now?" He asks.

"You won't like any of them." She tries to deter him. "None of them are remotely interested in football. Or Law. Or Baseball." She remarks. "It's going to be show tunes and singing and getting drunk with mildly Louis-like people."

"Please." He rolls his eyes. "Like I've never experienced _that_ before..." He makes a face, looking around himself. "Fine. If you don't want me there, _I'll just_-"

He turns, and she grabs the sleeve of his jacket roughly. "Okay fine. But you're taking me out." She huffs.

"You sure? Don't you want hang out with your theatre buddies?" He plays, sounding slightly more condescending than he'd planned to. But he knows she can take it.

"Honestly, I'm not sure that I want to explain to them all why my Boss came to my show, and is now_ still_ here. Plus...there's another show coming up soon, so."

"Could you not just tell them that we're…friends?" He enquires. There's more than a little jest in his voice at putting her on the spot.

"Stay there." She huffs again, pointing at him and restraining a smile that hides a subtext they're both aware of. "I'm going to say bye." She says, shaking her head to herself.

"And to tell them that your **_Boss_** is taking you out to dinner?" He calls after, his voice falling above the crowd as he revels in it.

"Sshh...I'm sure I'll think of something," She assures him, waving him off.

* * *

Five minutes...of more waiting, and texting Ray, and she's sauntering up to him, her bouquet in her hand.

"If you're grouchy tomorrow, do not even think of coming to my desk." She warns.

"Ditto." He sighs, feeling suddenly guilty. "You know, if you wanna hang out at your after party, I _can_ go home."

She smiles then, giving him a look, as she loops her arm through his. It's been a long time since she's done that. She rarely does it, but it's comforting somehow.

"I don't need them to tell me how good I am," She assures him, leaning into his shoulder.

"_Or how modest_," He adds, receiving a light slap to the chest at his reply.

They rock up to a bar not too far from the theatre, just off of Broadway. She assures him that it has great food and great beer to boot. He's not sure why a woman like her would ever drink a beer, but seeing her dainty, slightly hunched form over the old looking bar with a large beer in her hand seems to thoroughly entertain him. He undoes the button on his suit jacket, sliding it off of one arm before placing it on a hook hanging under the bar.

"Thankyou for coming tonight. It means a lot." She says, her eyes creeping towards his.

"I'm glad I did. You are...an unsurprisingly talented actress."

"How would you know? You hate the theatre." She jokes, the thank you clear in her eyes.

"One; _I don't hate the theatre_… I just… have an acquired taste of it. Like how you like going to baseball games, but not basketball. And two," He says, sipping his drink. "Watching you up there makes it more...palatable." He admits, the words falling out easier with the addition of a beer in his hand.

"You like watching me on stage, huh?" She plays. In the back of her toying with him there is a little shyness in her expression, a little guardedness. "How voyeuristic of you…." She says.

"I said before. _You killed it._ They loved you."

"Thank you Harvey." She says, looking back to her beer.

"**Which is why I think you should go for it**."

"What?" Her head flicks up, slight shock on her face.

"I think you should...try and get into it. **_Full time._**"

"Harvey," She blinks, her mouth forming into an open pout.

"_You're good _Donna. I may not know theatre but I know talent. And you are wasting your time being my assistant." He says, his face guarded. Prepared.

"Executive Assistant," She manages.

"I'm serious Donna. Your time is wasted on me. You need to go do what you love."

"Harvey, wait." He gestures, straightening into a more recognisable pose.

He watches as she collects most of his words, somehow compartmentalising them in her head, as her mouth seems to struggle for an objection. "Where is this coming from? Do you...not want me to work for you any more?" She asks, wide eyed and clearly taken aback.

"Honestly. I want you sat outside my office _until the day I retire_. But, Donna," He huffs, her challenge making his moment all the more difficult to communicate. "You're good at this. Really good. And maybe, you could be good at anything. Hell, if I hadn't have signed Mike a year ago, I'd probably have paid for you to go to law school just so I didn't have to deal with the next moron asshole. You're a great actress. And you're wasting your time being just an assistant."

"Harvey. I made my choices. And I still get to do what I want." She sputters, the words all falling out at once and into nothing. "Okay, Hypothetically," She says sternly, turning towards him. "Realistically speaking. I'd have to train someone to replace me. And that kind of person isn't just going to fall into our laps. AND I have to afford rent. I'm not just going to land an amazing job at forty, Harvey. How am I going to juggle the two? I can't make a break. I have no savings! These," she refers to the shoes hanging on the end of her ankles. "Are my savings!"

"Donna. I'd pay your salary regardless of if you worked there or not. And I know...losing you would be a huge,"

"Wait a minute. _**You pay my salary**_?" She asks then, poker straight as she points at him.

It's the first bumble he's had all evening. "Donna, I," He swallows.

"Harvey. Do you _**pay**_ my salary? Or does the firm…?"

"Yes, but only-"

He watches, as her eyes widen and she takes on an emotion that he can't quite put together. He feels the lump rise in his throat.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She fires at him.

"It's a long story." He narrows his eyes, feeling slightly cornered all of a sudden.

"Skip to the end." she glares, her eyes flashing.

"Donna. That's _not t_he point here,"

"Harvey **Reginald** Specter," She says. She's only used his full name three times. He hates it with a passion but it gets her exactly what she wants every damn time.

"Jessica would only agree to pay you when we first came to the firm if it came out of my pocket. I agreed. And then obviously she found out you were good at your job, and then I just...stopped thinking about it so it never got transferred on the...system."

His defence is a weak one, he realises.

"My money comes out of..._your_ money?" She reiterates, the irk cranking her voice up a notch above it's usually low pitch.

"Exactly, so not working there, in theory, is-"

"**They're getting me for free**?"

"I'm a managing partner, so that doesn't really matter…Donna,"

"What about the last ten years, Harvey!" She fires at him.

"Donna," He hushes her. "LOOK...for the first time in my life, I just want you to be happy. Not me. _**You**_."

She sighs, partly occupied by the implications of him still paying for her after all this time.

"Harvey. Why did you ask me to come work with you?" She fires at him then.

"Donna," He immediately shakes his head. It's like the golden question with the answer he's still not willing to share the answer to.

"No Harvey. You brought all this up. I just wanted to have a quiet beer and some dinner after my show. This.." She says, gesturing between them. "This is all on you." She says roughly, looking about her as if she's considering storming out.

_He's heard that before..._

_And he doesn't blame her..._

He inhales a breath, stressed out for the first time all evening. "Listen. I should have told you. At the time..._back then_...I was a selfish prick."

"Then you must be doing your own repeat performance!" She glares, her shoulders hunching.

"Donna. If I could have done things differently. Honestly, I don't know that I would have. _I couldn't have done this all without you. _But. That's why I'm telling you now. You deserve more. Of everything. So I want you go out there **_from tomorrow_** and get it."

She sits, quiet for a moment. She reminds him of when he went looking for her and found her at their place...the place that neither of them ever seem to go, but somehow are both still linked to after so much time.

"I can't afford to, Harvey. It's too late in the game."

"Donna. I will pay you to go chase your dream. It's not like I'm going to pay anybody else. That will come from payroll."

"What if I don't want to leave my job?" She says then, her eyes narrowing at his.

"Donna. You never **_were_ **good at hiding in my shadow."

"What if you can't do the job without me?" She wagers, her eyebrow popping slightly.

"We both know that's possibly true...but I'm going to have to deal with that. And maybe I shouldn't be at the top if I can't stay there without you?"

He's made her cry now, watching her eyes fills as one tear precariously skirts the corner of her tear duct. And now feels like a prized asshole, which was not his intention. He leans towards her, the guilt setting in. "Donna. You've done so much for me. For ten years. Let me do something for you that actually means something." He says, the need to touch her making his hands scratch and his teeth ache.

"Ugh. I don't like you being supportive." She shrugs him off, her hair flicking in the process.

"It's natural that it would make you cry. It's the shock of me not being a dick all the time." He half smiles.

She laughs, her arm flying out to bat him square in the chest again.

"Okay. We need to do a shot." He says, infusing the mood with something lighter.

"Harvey," She protests.

"To you. And to _**change**_."

"Harvey. It's late." She says tiredly.

"And I want get you so very drunk, and then carry you home on your closing night."

"I never need to get carried home." She challenges. Clearly putting up a fight on what he thinks is so many levels.

"Then I have my work cut out for me." He says, gaining the bartender's attention. "Can I get...four Macallan eighteens. Neat."

"Harvey," She stares, eyes wide as the bartender pours the round.

"Donna? What happened to your wild side. I've seen it, remember?" He says.

"I just did an eleven and half our day and then the main female part in a Shakespeare play." She defends.

"God. What do you want, a medal?" He chides, rolling his eyes.

"An Olivier award might be more appropriate." She says haughtily.

"And not you're not going to get that sat outside my office, are you?"

"I'm...scared, Harvey." She says then, flattening the mood. He can see it in her face that she's being the most honest he thinks he's ever seen her be.

_But then again, he's already made her cry, so what is there to really lose now?_

"I'm scared too. I don't know if I can do this without you. Hell, I couldn't when you got fired, just ask Mike. No doubt Jessica told you..." He admits, before summoning the openness to look directly at her, occupied by her long black tinted lashes and unruly hair. "But I'm kind of done being a selfish asshole with people I care about the most. And you're...right up there."

She's the quietest she's ever been. But then he thinks that this is the one thing that really he's had all the control over. She can object and object until she's blue in the face, until he lays it all out. And then all she has is a choice to make.

"Okay. I guess this is...to...change." She says, lifting the shot, as he smirks, chinking it with his own shot glass.

He watches, eyes filling with humour as she makes the worst face he's ever seen at downing the shots.

"Oh my god! How did you even get me into that stuff. It is not a shot!" She protests, grabbing her beer to take a rather large gulp in an effort to drown the taste.

"You okay over there?" He asks, occupied by this very strangely attractive and odd woman, as she downs the next shot without him.

"Hey!" He objects.

"I can't! I need to get rid of them all," she says, gulping another sip of beer.

"You're gonna puke," He tells her.

"No I'm not. I have a strong constitution." She argues, waving her hand at him.

"You're gonna need a strong something to keep all that down." He remarks, watching her recover.

She turns to the barman, gaining his attention. "Can I get...two sambucas? Thankyou."

"Donna?" He blinks.

"You always drink whiskey. It's time you had a proper shot." She says, giving him a look.

"I hate the damn stuff!" He says, scrunching his nose.

She leans over, noticeably drunker than before, her long slender arms stretching across the bar in front of her, as she grins at him, deliberate and challenging and irresistibly inches away from him. "_**I know**_." She says, that devil may care part of her toying with his emotions.

He grunts a little in the back of his throat, reserving the feeling that keeps bubbling up inside his gut and threatening to spread out over his chest. "Bring it on." He says, loosening his tie as two shots are placed in front of them.

"I'm going to enjoy this," She says.

"You better...I'm going to order the next one. And it ain't gonna be sambuca."

"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to play with fire?" She says, smirking.

"_**Why do you think I keep you around**_?" He says.

She smirks, a mixture of being taken aback at his openess and a little dutch courage mixed in.

"I thought it was because you couldn't be_** you**_ without **_me_**?" She plays, finally digging at him.

"Well; apart from that." He restrains the smile of such a fact.

"Okay," She says, chinking her shot against his with vigour. "Drink it down, hotshot." She challenges.

He downs the shot, feeling his stomach lurch. He never did have a good stomach for sambuca. It's aniseed taste was abhorrent and reminiscent of medicine he'd been forced to take as child. He looks over to see her smiling, entertained by his disapproving expression as he sips his own beer to drown the wretch that's threatening his windpipe.

* * *

They end up ordering bar snacks, of all things. And mildly fight over a pile of nachos when she tries to steal all the guacamole.

"I knew I should have ordered two, you do this every damn time!" He objects, giving her a disapproving look.

"It's my night! Why shouldn't I hold precedence over the Guac?" She gawps, before wiping a nacho chip into the sour cream clearly designated on his side of the plate and popping it victoriously into her mouth. He gestures, half mock outrage and half pure revelling at their sudden ease around each other. "That's it. No more touching my side of the plate!" He states, despite the enjoyment written all over him.

"But there's nothing left on my side." She points out, a pout forming on her lips.

"Then let that be a lesson to you," He says, leaning towards the barstool that lays like a quiet council between them.

_He loves this. He's needed this_. And it's only now opened up as a possibility. A sudden flash of their past, of how he'd been the one to chase her all those years ago.

It never occurred to him until now, how it was just that simple and all in his hands. He finds himself sliding over the middle seat sit next to her. She doesn't stiffen, but she does sit a little straighter, as if to attention.

"Harvey. _Don't even_…" She warns, taking a sip of beer to sit even straighter, as if physically taking the moral high ground. He counters, her, despite the tired and warm edge he's got going on.

"Donna," he nudges her shoulder, his dark eyes infusing with something almost seductive about them. "Come on," He says, something almost cute in his expression.

"Yes. That's _exactly_ what this looks like," She jokes, gesturing between them. "This has been your plan all night, hasn't it? You just...made a decision."

"_I did_. It think it's a pretty good one." He drawls, that come hither stare daring to fall onto his now relaxed and well practised features.

"What if I'm happy with the way we are?" She offers, leaning in slightly, as if it's some sort intimidation to play into it.

"Then you'd have gotten married five years ago." He counters.

It takes her back, his statement. His sudden awareness of that moment in her life. Clearly now, she realises that he's known all along and the telling of such in the mock trial wasn't quite the revelation she had expected it to be.

"Harvey," She breathes, briefly looking over his shoulder and then back to him.

"Donna. Today I told Mike that I didn't regret many things, but that I regretted not supporting his idea. I also regret one other thing in my life. That when I asked you to come work with me, that it would mean giving up the possibility of us. So _now_," he says, observing her. "I want to make up for that. Any way that I can."

"Just because you want me to follow my dream, this doesn't necessarily mean that we're gonna-"

"Ahh!" He says, objecting, as a restrictive smile paints his face. She's getting him back for before. _With Stephen_. "I get it. I've got some work to do. But this...you doing what you've always wanted is a start."

"Maybe." She shrugs, sliding off the seat. "Now...I'm drunk. And I've had a lovely if not slightly surprising evening. So..._take me home_?"

"Which one," He asks, sliding off of the stool next to her.

"Oh, Harvey, you should know by now. I'm not that easily won over." She remarks, looking at him over her shoulder.

"You wanna bet?" He smirks, throwing a fifty onto the counter, as he gestures for her to walk ahead.

* * *

The night air is crisp and chilling and completely what his tired, alcohol ridden bones have been after, as they walk some of the way home. Luckily it's uptown for both of them, and closer to hers and he's honestly just enjoying being with her outside of work by this point.

"You doing okay over there?" He asks, noticing her fidget and the tired look on her face.

"I'm a little cold but...I'm okay." She nods.

"How you walk in those all day I'll never know." He points out, indicating her nude peep-toes.

"_Oh, my feet died years ago_. It's a an accomplishment seldom women ever reach." She remarks, rubbing her shoulders. In a flash he's handing her his jacket.

"Here." He says, holding it out.

"I'm fine, Harvey." She assures him.

"Just take the damn jacket!" He commands, his usual verbal roughness peeking out as he pushes it at her.

"You're the worst kind of gentleman." She remarks, smiling.

"Aren't those the best kind?" He offers, smiling as she pulls the jacket on, as it hangs on her smaller frame.

"For some things, perhaps."

"Things like…?" He presses.

"Harvey," She admonishes, shaking her head a little to herself.

"If I'd have only just met you tonight you'd have been in my bed by now." He says, arrogance painting his features.

"Wanna bet? I wasn't when you first met me." She counters.

"That was different. If we hadn't have worked together I'd have been all over you like a rash."

She laughs, most likely at his sudden truth telling. "If I remember rightly...you _were_ rather persistent."

"I was crazy about you." He admits.

"Harvey," The words fall out. Always like a telling off, like the only barrier to his heart she has left.

"_**I was**_." He shrugs, the drunken admittance of such an oddly cathartic rite of passage. "It actually feels...okay to say it."

"Maybe for _you_." She says, the chill about her as she hugs his coat.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks, frowning.

"Nothing, Harvey." She shakes her head. "It's just...hard. I want to move on. But you don't make it easy."

"I'm not trying to make it hard, listen." He stops her, dead in the middle of the sidewalk. "I'm trying to work it all out. For the first time. And I respect the fact that you may want different things. But I need to at least get it out of my system. Even if you leave me after to go pursue your dream." He ends with a joke, that somehow doesn't quite feel as funny off of the tongue as he'd have hoped.

"Harvey." She says, partly occupied with their assault on her block, she notices, her apartment peeking out at the end of the street by a dimly lit lamp.

"Donna, you did what I needed when I asked you give everything else up ten years ago. Now I'm asking you to go do what you want...because you deserve to be happy. "

"Why are you being like this?" She says, exasperatedly, and suddenly so out of character.

"What?" He frowns.

"Harvey. Ten years ago, I made a choice. You didn't force me into it and _yes_...I chose you, over everybody else (including my parents), because I believe in you."

"Well then don't you think it's time to that you believe in yourself? Look, I'm a selfish guy, Donna. This is _Haley's Comet _right here. I'm giving you the chance to get out there. And not be tied to me forever wondering if you could have accomplished more."

"What if I like being beside you?" She fires, although the intention is somehow softer.

"I like how you omitted 'tied to me', from that." He remarks, smirking.

"You noticed that, huh?" She smiles, rolling her eyes at his sudden shrewdness.

"Yeah." He grins.

"I better...uh..go. I have to be up soon and my Boss is a real jerk." She jokes.

"Yeah. I heard he's super hot though."

"Really? You heard that?" She asks, mock interested.

"I might have heard that?" He smirks, an odd shyness at her pressing on his wit.

"I haven't heard that." she says blankly.

"Get up there before I kiss you." He nods to the apartment in front of them.

She chuckles, taking a step towards him. "I had a good time tonight, Harvey."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." She nods, placing a hand on his shoulder, as her lips press against his cheek. He feels his eyelids flutter shut, completely relaxing at their brief touch. Before he's even thought to stop her, or grab her or kiss or do anything,

_**He wonders if she is the key to everything in his life...**_

She pulls back, disconnecting from him, a conservative smile on her face. "I'll see you in the morning?"

"Okay." He nods, watching as she slowly but steadily - despite her heels and drunkenness - saunters to her apartment door.

"Donna," He calls.

"Yeah?"

"Come home with me." He says. It's not even a question.

She chuckles to herself, rolling her eyes. "Goodnight Harvey." She turns, walking to the apartment, her keys in hand.

"_Good girl_," He whispers, remaining static on the sidewalk.

He waits, until she's in her apartment, seeing the light turn on at the front of the building that he suspects is her lounge. It's confirmed as such, when she opens the window, pointing at him to go home, her face pretending to be stern.

He finds himself waving, slightly goofily, before turning back onto the street.

And for the first time in a very long time,

He feels that he's truly fought... for the people he cares most about.

Mike _(And Rachel)_

_And his beautiful redhead thespian pain in the ass._

_**Or Donna, as she is more famously known...**_

* * *

I wanted to play about with them. I should have posted this before last night's ep!


End file.
